Tenebrous
by asentia
Summary: Several months after the Dark Lord's new regime began, a broken, tortured, and lifeless Hermione Granger is offered a choice to either betray everything she believes in or die. And her decision doesn't just affect her, but the entire world- both wizarding and Muggle- as well. And not necessarily for the better.
1. Broken

Disclaimer: I'm not an awesome enough human being to own Harry Potter. Only J.K. Rowling has reached that magnitude of awesomeness. And maybe Yann Tiersen.

So, um, this was written- sorry, it is _being_ written- for my friend Bi's birthday, which is today. So happy birthday to you, Bi, and hope you like this!

For the rest of you, reviews make me veeeery happy. :)

Chapter 1

Broken

Being shrouded in darkness and utter silence, save the irritating padding of a rat's feet, could easily corrupt the mind in mere days, depending on whom the mind belonged to. In this case, the mind belonged to a young woman of seventeen. She had a gaunt, pale face, and sunken eyes- which had long since lost their curious and intelligent gleam- and a protruding ribcage. She also possessed random patches of hair on her otherwise bald scalp, as most of her curls had been burned off during a torture session conducted by Bellatrix Lestrange. Mistress Lestrange had been in a rather sour mood that day.

The last time the girl had eaten was only an hour ago- her meal had been one of those annoying rats, killed with her own, scarred hands. The beverage had been of her own urine.

The young woman never cried except during the infamous sessions. She had had seven in total during the six months she had been imprisoned. Two sessions had been in public. One had been carried out by the Dark Lord himself.

At the current time, the girl in question was lying on the floor, her glassy brown eyes unseeing and facing outside the cell.

Then came heavy footsteps.

They echoed loudly as they fell along the concrete flooring. For those in neighbouring cells who hadn't been imprisoned for a long time, who hadn't lost their desire to live, time seemed to stand still. They wondered who the person had come for- who would be tortured next. Would their screams be heard through the walls like most, or would they stand their ground and refuse to utter a single word?

That feat had yet to be conquered though, as silence normally meant that the prey was either unconscious or dead.

The girl on the floor, having thought those thoughts herself once upon a time, laughed bitterly, but her quiet rasps were lost among the sound of the footsteps. Then she heard another sound and her amusement ended.

There was a faint dragging noise accompanying the footfalls. It sounded like a snake slithering along the ground. She knew that noise personally and flinched upon hearing it.

The footsteps became louder as they came closer, then they stopped. They stopped right outside the girl's cell. The worried ones brought their anxiety to an end. No one had the nerve to sympathize.

There was a spell muttered then, "Wake up," from the gruff voice that the footsteps seemed to belong to. The girl didn't move. "Wake up, you little piece of filth!" She still didn't move. "You better not be dead." And with an exasperated sigh, the person bent down, his long crusty beard brushing against the bridge of her nose. He then slapped her on the cheek soundly and she let out a whimper.

"Get up, Mudblood, or I'll lash you here and now," demanded he. The girl got up as quickly as her drained legs could muster. She buckled slightly once she was finally up, but grabbed hold of the wall and steadied herself.

The brick was cool and moist and, surprisingly, not moldy. Refreshing.

"Follow me," the person said. It was too dark to see them clearly, but the girl could make out a tall, heavyset man with a bit of a hunch. They began to walk or, in her case, limp.

They passed long rows of cells, filled with people as wasted and destroyed, both physically and mentally, as her. Though some cells contained people who still had hope; one person was trying to dig a tunnel in the ground with his broken nails and teeth that had fallen off and out. The man with the heavy footsteps Stunned that person.

Finally, they came to a grand, garnished black door. The man pushed it open.

A sinister green light tinted the room and the girl stopped walking, trying to get her eyes accustomed to the light. She no longer cared what the repercussions of her action would be.

"Walk on," the man ordered impatiently. She was unresponsive. "WALK ON!"

A sharp crack, a painful sting in the back of her neck, and a new scar, but no tears- she had become accustomed to pain and this, by far, was not painful in the least compared to the torture she had received beforehand. Nevertheless, she continued to walk forward slowly, staring at her feet the entire time, and only came to a halt when the man pulled on her arm. The girl looked up and immediately recoiled from the sight that greeted her eyes.

His white-blond hair had a bit of an odd sparkle to it and his grey eyes were as icy as ever. He had noticeable dark bags underneath his eyes that were bloodshot as well and a thin jagged scar ran down from the middle of his left cheek to the top of his neck.

"Follow me, you two," Draco Malfoy said coldly. He looked at the girl in revulsion, as if she was some sort of filthy rodent.

But, in her current state, she might as well have been. At least that way no one would have bothered to make her go through hell and back.

"Actually, Malfoy, I have other jobs to do," the man with the heavy footsteps stated before the Malfoy could begin walking. Malfoy glared at him.

"Really?" he said, his upper lip curling. "What sort of 'jobs', Jugson?"

"Jobs that do not require steering this Mudblood around," the man replied exasperatedly, as if he had better things to do than argue with someone half his age. "And Lestrange said this is as far as I have to go if you want to argue even more." He pushed the decrepit girl towards Malfoy. "She's all yours." Then he walked away.

The girl knew he was gone for good by the resounding bang of the grand black door.

"Don't you dare try anything, Mudblood," Malfoy said calmly to the girl, glaring after Jugson. "If you do, I'll have Aunt Bella come over and torture you and we both know how much you'd like that." He turned his back on the girl and began to walk. "Follow me."

The two walked through a door that wasn't as polished as the black one, but still as grand, and into a corridor in which Muggle and Mudblood slaves were scrubbing blood and grime off the floors. Malfoy didn't bother to go around them; they all moved out of his way or he simply stepped on them. The servants did the same for the girl but sent her looks of sympathy as well, thinking that she was probably on her way for another round of torment. A few people smiled encouragingly but with sad eyes. The drained girl didn't return the smiles.

After a bit more walking, they reached a room that was completely dark inside. Malfoy shoved the girl roughly in before leaving and banging the door shut. She instantly ran, her hand feeling along the rough brick wall, into a corner where she fell into a fetal position, bracing herself for the pain to come; whenever she had been tortured- except for when it was in public- she would be thrown into a dark, silent room similar to the one she was currently in. They sometimes left her alone with only her thoughts and the maddening silence for hours on end. Other times, they came right away.

The girl preferred that they come right away.

Of course, no one cared much for her opinion.

She vividly remembered the first time she had been tortured after the end of the War. It was a day after Harry Potter had been killed and immediately after she had been captured. They had stripped her of her clothes, leaving not even a single thread to cover herself with. The girl remembered Death Eaters laughing cruelly, throwing multiple spells at her- mainly just the Cruciatus Curse- before Bellatrix Lestrange had shooed them all away.

"Let's finished what we started at the Manor, Mudblood," she'd snarled once the two were the only ones left in the room. "It's time for the _real_ fun to begin!" Then she had laughed like the madwoman she was.

Pain. Horrible pain that had been unknown to the girl until then.

For eight hellish hours.

"_Dolor vitae_!" Bellatrix shrieked. A sharp pain erupted all over the girl's body. It felt as if multiple knives were hacking at the girl- the cool feeling of metal causing the searing heat of pain and the warmth of drawn blood. It was a rather odd feeling. She screamed.

"Shut up, Mudblood. _Nunc ignea!_" There was a pause in the pain and the girl revelled in it, but the peace lasted for only a few seconds.

Interrupting the girl's ecstasy was loud crack and a roar like a fire's, then something blisteringly hot descended on the girl's back, whipping her repeatedly in the same spot. The girl could feel her skin tearing open and blood spilling out. She screamed more loudly than before. There was a snarl, another yell, and then even more pain.

The girl could only scream even more.

"Why are you yelling? I thought you liked it hot, Mudblood!" Bellatrix screamed in maniacal glee, but the pain stopped in a way that felt somewhat reluctant. The girl sighed and breathed in and out, but she suddenly shrieked and tried to crawl away as Bellatrix began to advance towards her.

"Why are you running, Mudblood? You know that will just make your wounds worse!" Bellatrix cried happily. The girl kept on crawling. "If you stop, I'll make you feel all better!" More crawling. "Oh, just fucking get over here already! _Accio_ Mudblood!"

The girl felt an invisible force pull her backwards and towards her torturer. To the girl's horror, she landed right in front of the sadistic Death Eater. Bellatrix smiled coldly, got down on her knees so she was level with the girl, and picked up one of the girl's hands delicately. She tried to pull away but the Death Eater's grip was oddly strong.

"You have really pretty nails," Bellatrix remarked casually, smiling coldly. "I wonder what your hands would look like if we plucked them off." There was an excruciating pain as Bellatrix tugged off the girl's pinky nail. She started to scream and sob. "One." The nail of her ring finger flew across the room, blood trailing behind it. "By." Bellatrix peeled off the girl's middle nail off agonizingly slowly. The girl could only watch through tear-blurred eyes as blood spilled continuously. "One." The girl didn't even bother to scream when her pointer fingernail was torn off, she just continued to sob.

"Kill me, kill me now," the girl moaned.

"But I'm the only one who's had any real fun with you," Bellatrix hissed. "That wouldn't be fair would it, to kill you _now_? I know that some of your old classmates would absolutely _love_ to have a go at you; I think you're even on the Dark Lord's list, you lucky bitch!"

"Y- you think I- I _like_ this?" the girl said, her sobs wavering her voice. There was the blurred motion of a hand then a sharp, stinging sensation in the girl's left cheek.

"Are you calling me stupid?" Bellatrix snapped, throwing the girl's hand. The girl shook her head at once and Bellatrix sneered. "Pippy!" she yelled. A house-elf appeared with a loud _Crack!_

"Yes, madam?" it asked, bowing low.

"I've had enough of this. Get someone and have them bring this filth into its cage," Bellatrix ordered, standing up. "Its name is _Hermione Granger_ and it belongs in one of the high-security cells."

"Yes, madam." Pippy bowed once more before disappearing. Bellatrix looked at the girl- Hermione- and smiled coldly, bending down and fingering the girl's frizzy, blood-matted curls. The girl flinched.

"This hideous rats' nest has _got_ to go," Bellatrix whispered menacingly. She looked up as Pippy came back with a stout Death Eater trailing behind it.

"Until next time, deary," Bellatrix drawled, straightening and leaving Hermione, who was lying on the floor and crying silent tears.

"I have to carry _that_?" Hermione heard the summoned Death Eater sneer once Bellatrix had left.

"Yes, sir. Madam Lestrange's orders, sir," came the squeaky voice of the house-elf. There was a snort before Hermione felt herself being levitated off the ground and out of the room.

"_Lumos Maxima_!" someone yelled suddenly, snapping Hermione out of her little reverie. A harsh, bright light rapidly filled part of the room. Hermione curled more tightly into a little ball, hiding her head.

"What a mess," remarked someone. They sounded female. "Bellatrix, did you do this?" Someone, probably Bellatrix, scoffed. There were two more '_Lumos Maxima_!s'.

"Cissy, the last time I was in this room was a week ago," Bellatrix sneered. "And Rabastan was in the room the day after. Blame him."

"Can we just get this over with?" a baritone voice said impatiently.

"Yes. Rodolpus, you do it," Cissy said haughtily. There was a growl, presumably from Rodolphus, a shriek, then the yell of a curse and the sound of crumbling brick.

"Don't you dare lay even a _finger_ on my sister or I'll see to it personally that the other nine get sliced off!" Bellatrix screeched.

A sigh then, "Mudblood! Where're you?" from Rodolphus.

Hermione didn't answer.

"Check the corners," Bellatrix ordered. "She's always run to one ever since Yaxley tried to do a number on her eyes." Someone- it sounded like Cissy- gasped in sheer revulsion. "Oh, contain your disgust, Narcissa. What do you _think_ happens in here?"

"I know what happens in here," Narcissa insisted, "but her- her _eyes_? The girl isn't a mutt you know."

"Of course she isn't. She's worse than a mutt," stated Rodolphus. Hermione tensed, noticing that his voice sounded much closer than Bellatrix and Narcissa's. The former cackled nastily.

"I can't grasp how you two can just _torture_ people without feeling a thing. That's unhuman!"

"But Cissy, we _do_ feel something when we torture the filth. We feel _pleasure_ and _contentment_. If you just tried, for once in your life, to-"

"Found her!" Rodolphus cried triumphantly. Hermione shifted nervously as she felt his eyes rove along her body. "She's a skinny little thing, isn't she? Even worse than the others. And what happened to her _hair_?"

"I was in a bad mood," Bellatrix griped.

"Right. Were you sloshed as well?" Rodolphus inquired. "And you, Mudblood, get up!" Hermione did as she was told hastily, the blood rushing to her head in doing so.

"Rodolphus, go help her," Narcissa said. "She looks woozy."

"She can help herself," Bellatrix snapped.

Hermione toddled slowly, following Rodolphus into the centre of the room. She was then shoved into a chair which someone had conjured. It was a stiff, straight-backed wooden thing that was by no means comfortable but better then standing. Hermione leaned back and let out a quiet sigh of comfort. She closed her eyes…

_Smack!_

"Wake up, you dirty little piece of filth," Rodolphus sneered. Hermione's eyes opened suddenly and she blinked once. Twice. Three times. Three people were peering down at her. Two were glaring and one was expressionless.

"Mudblood," Bellatrix said in feigned sweetness, "the Dark Lord has been told that you used to be a very bright bit- witch while you weren't in your." The Death Eater looked at Hermione in distaste. "_Current_ condition. So he wants to make you an offer. Cissy, you tell her the rest, I can't stand this deal." The expressionless person nodded.

"Granger," Narcissa said quietly, "you are to come up with spells of a… delicate nature and in return, you receive food, clothes, a bed, and there will be no more torture." Hermione could detect a faint trace of sympathy in the speaker's eyes. "What do you say? All you need to do is nod or shake your head."

"And if you say no, Bellatrix here, or maybe even the Dark Lord himself, will torture you until you snuff it, as there'll be no more use for you," Rodolphus added. "I should think the answer be easy to make."

Hermione's face stayed unchanged, still outlined in fear.

"Do you understand?" Narcissa asked uncertainly. Hermione nodded once.

"And what's your answer?" Bellatrix hissed. The room was filled with uneasy anticipation and Hermione's mind suddenly became filled with thoughts; it was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to concentrate.

By saying yes, she would be working for the Dark Lord. She would be one of his minions, like Bellatrix or even Narcissa, and she would be betraying everything she had ever worked for. And everyone who had given their lives- and was still giving them- in defiance of the very person who Hermione was about to help do who-knows-what. She would be betraying Harry, Ginny, Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley.

Ron.

"_Get into the damn room!" Ron yelled, pushing Hermione through the door. She turned around to protest but instead, screamed._

"_Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing at the advancing Death Eater. Ron looked in the direction she was pointing and raised his wand. But too late._

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

"Well?" Narcissa prodded. Hermione pursed her lips, still deep in thought.

But if she took this offer- if she took this offer, there would be no more pain. No more scars, no more humiliation.

And she'd be killed if she said no.

Ron wouldn't want her to die, even if the only other option was a less than honourable one. Would he?

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and the room became even more tense.

"_I will not rest until Voldemort is as dead as Sirius."_

"_spells of a… delicate nature…"_

"_We will not rest until You-Know-Who is dead."_

"_no more torture…"_

"_Go to hell, Voldy."_

"_food, clothes, a bed…"_

"_Don't you understand, Ms. Granger? You're our last hope."_

Before she could stop herself, Hermione's mouth betrayed her and spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'll do it."


	2. Commence

~Author's Note~

It's been a while, lovelies, hasn't it? mwahahaha. Well I'll have you know I'm publishing my NaNo2011 in a few days. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

The next chapter should be up in a few days. Maybe today depending on how late dinner is. ;)

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><p>Hermione Granger jumped into the water-filled tub with something that almost resembled happiness.<p>

"You're disgusting, Mudblood," Draco Malfoy sneered.

The girl just watched the dirt fade from her skin with wonder.

Then before she knew what she was doing, Hermione began to lap the water into her mouth, not caring that it was filled with months' worth of filth. Hermione let out a sigh of content.

So much better than piss.

"There's more of that. And it's clean." It wasn't that Slytherin's cold voice, it was a gentler one. Female too. Hermione stopped drinking and looked up. Immediately her mouth began to crave the cool and somewhat salty liquid but she continued to regard the speaker.

She had bright blue eyes and blonde hair that had once been the envy of dozens of women but had turned into a dull, stringy mess. Hermione could tell she had once been beautiful too. She had as decent a figure you could get-

Hermione's body took over and her mouth drank in the water once more.

"She's like an animal," said the boy.

"Soon you will be answering to her," said the woman. The boy- no, he was more of a man now- scoffed. "Why are you even in here?"

"No one of higher rank wants to clean the mutt."

"Well, you should leave now."

"Why? Just because she's skinny doesn't mean she doesn't-"

"Draco." The voice had attained a cold edge. "I'm still your mother. Don't forget that. Now leave."

Hermione stopped drinking long enough to take a breath and to notice the woman was balancing a bar of soap atop a towel.

"Is that for me?" Hermione's voice was quiet and rough and there was a terrible ache in her throat that she just noticed. She sounded nothing like she used to. She never noticed earlier, mainly because the only things that came out of her mouth were blood, vomit, and screams.

"Can you clean yourself?" the woman asked. Hermione nodded and grabbed the soap from the woman. Hermione didn't even flinch as the lather entered her wounds. "I have a towel for you as well, and a robe. Once you're done washing I'll apply Pol-eye-spore-in on your wounds." At the mention of the Muggle ointment, Hermione did something very unHermione-like.

She giggled.

Polysporin? Of all things to have survived the war?

"The Dark Lord would rather not waste magic on you so you're stuck with this Muggle garbage," the woman explained. "I'm Narcissa by the way, but it would be better if you call me Mrs. Malfoy when there are others around." Then she was silent.

Hermione continued to alternate between drinking and washing.

* * *

><p>The girl's eyes were impossibly wide. Narcissa pursed her lips. Had Draco slipped some of those Muggle salt powder into the water?<p>

Maybe she was just excited about the bowl in front of her.

The Dark Lord had assigned care of the girl Hermione to Narcissa and her son. Of course, Draco had better things to do and he was a man now, a man who wouldn't listen to his mother, so it was just Narcissa sitting across from Hermione Granger in the otherwise empty kitchen. Not even the House-Elves were around.

The bowl was just some thick Muggle soup from a can that no one wanted. Well, no one except the Muggles, but they were too busy working to eat.

Narcissa watched as the girl picked up the bowl and drank the mixture, completely ignoring the spoon. Once upon a time Narcissa would have been disgusted but at the moment, she was already filled with sympathy for this Mudblood to feel disgust.

It took two minutes for the bowl to be completely drained of its contents then another two as the girl licked it clean of what little else remained.

"Water?" Narcissa asked softly. The girl nodded enthusiastically. Narcissa smiled slightly. She was like little Ambrose- Narcissa cut off her thought. There was no Ambrose. Narcissa had never had a daughter. She must remember that.

The woman's had shook slightly as she handed a glass to Hermione.

Not that the girl noticed.

* * *

><p>END NOTE<p>

Sorry about the mix-up and uncompleted words. It seems this website deletes asterisks and I'm supposed to save then close MWord for the full text...


	3. Tangled

Author's Note: So it's been almost a year since I last updated. Sorry about that but I didn't want to update with a chapter that wasn't as up to par as the others. And a special thank you to those who have stuck to this story from the beginning! :)

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><p>The mutt's wet hair dripped onto the floor and her robe hung off her tiny frame. Draco Malfoy curled his lip in distaste. Her eyes weren't bright and hopeful- yet- but soon she would be strong enough to raise hell in the Dark Lord's stronghold.<p>

The young man's grip on his wand tightened. He couldn't hex her into obedience, but he could break her into an irreparable mess that even his naive mother couldn't piece back together.

"Hello, Granger," Draco said softly, attempting to smile but it probably looked more like a grimace. The bitch was keeping her eyes on the ground though so it didn't even matter. "You know why you're here?" The Mudblood nodded quickly. Her neck was strong. Narcissa was doing too good of a job. "Come here."

Draco more or less pushed Granger into a plushy chair at a large desk and pointed at the high stack of blank parchment on the tabletop. There were several inkpots and sharpened quills beside the pile.

"You can use all this and if you need something specific ask the House-Elf," Draco said blankly. "Her name is Mindy. All the books in this room are." Draco swallowed. "For your taking and if you need to perform any spells you will ask me and I will do them for your observation." The mutt nodded timidly and met the youngest Malfoy's eyes for the first time in ages.

"What type of spell do you need me to recreate?" she asked. _Re_create? Draco almost spat at her- didn't she know the damn job description? She had to come up with _brand new_ spells!

"You will be creating new spells that no one could ever imagine," Draco said, clenching his fist close to his side so he didn't slap her. He took a deep breath and his hand relaxed somewhat. "I'll be in the room next door. Just knock if you need anything. _Anything at all_." He smiled and the flicker of hope in the Mudblood's eyes proved that the smile looked authentic. Draco tried something Lucius did to calm Narcissa; he placed the palm of his hand on the mutt's cheek and cradled her face delicately. She flinched then smiled. Draco took her face in both of his hands and kissed her on the forehead, causing her cheeks to turn a violent red.

"No one will ever hurt you again," Draco whispered reassuringly. He quickly added, "Hermione." The girl frowned but she didn't look too suspicious. And she had smiled earlier. Maybe she was desperate for something good to cling onto; a friend or at least someone who didn't hate her. She had Narcissa and now she had Draco- that's what he would make her think at least.

Draco walked into his suite in the neighboring room and quickly cast a silencing spell before laughing madly.

She had blushed! The bitch had blushed! Draco grinned.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger absent-mindedly patted the shining bald spot on the top of her head and suddenly the quill she was holding pierced a hole into the parchment and black ink flowed onto the desk. Thinking of Bellatrix, Hermione wrote down a word.<p>

_Lethum._

She quickly added _hexeris_ next to the first word. The girl started to sob.

Harry and Ron's faces swarmed through her veil of tears; them smiling, frowning, crying, screaming, and promising Hermione a better world where her blood status didn't matter. The girl laughed bitterly. It was only 6 months after Ron's death and Harry's disappearance but she was already giving up. There would be no better world.

Before she knew what she was doing, the letters appeared on the parchment. They spelled out, _Lethumeris_ and Hermione could vividly imagine Bellatrix crying in agony as invisible demons swarmed around her, suffocating her with a blanket of darkness and shrill screams.

A useless spell, Hermione thought. Not creative enough.

This girl- no, she had turned into a lifeless monster long ago- grabbed a black leather tome off a nearby shelf and began leafing through thick parchment pages that were filled with golden and blood red ink. Instead of being horrified by the horrendous drawings, she was filled with excitement of the prospect of torturing Bellatrix Lestrange.

In two hours a beast fueled by hatred had written down five spells in cursive that was written with a weak, shaky hand. The tight grip on the quill had peeled away loose folds of poorly-grown skin, revealing bloody gashes which bled onto the paper.

The girl stood up shakily, her knees nearly giving out underneath her, and grabbed onto the bookshelves for support as she dragged her feet toward Mr. Malfoy's door. She raised an arm to knock but her knuckles instead scraped against the wood rather than really knocking. Nevertheless the thing groaned open and a tall young man eyed Hermione groggily.

Without speaking the girl held out the piece of parchment and Mr. Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"Can I do these indoors without damaging anything?" he asked politely. The girl shook her head.

"Outside is best. And testing on a living creature would be preferred." Malfoy chuckled.

"Very well. _Accio_ cloak. Oh and _accio_ sweater." A long black cloak flew out of a pristinely-varnished mahogany closet into Malfoy's grasp and a fuzzy purple pullover landed on the floor in front of Hermione. She quickly pulled it on over her thin silk robe and followed the tall man into the hallway.

* * *

><p>"<em>Lethumeris!<em>" Malfoy screamed, aiming his blood-spattered wand at a Muggle servant. The boy couldn't have been older than twelve, Hermione thought. He- The spell is working!

The girl watched in horrified fascination and Malfoy in surprise and revulsion as the little non-magical servant boy began to scream and cry and flail around in the dirt. His mouth stretched open at an impossible length and black goo and spiders the size of Hermione's hand spilled out onto the dead grass. Suddenly the sky had turned grey and the air was foggy cold. The two wizards felt a familiar feeling of dread.

Then the screeching started.

Wraiths covered in ragged black robes drifted down from the sky into the courtyard, their horrible shrieks echoing across the palace. The creator of the spell clamped her hands over her ears and fell on her knees while Malfoy attempted several silencing spells, but none of them worked.

The demons- the girl counted seven through barely-open eyes- surrounded the Muggle boy and circled around him like a horses on a merry-go-round at a carnival. She saw the wraiths' arms raise and their sleeves inching down, revealing bone-white limbs and long claws covered in black goo and dark brown stains.

Blood, bones, and half-eaten organs began to fly everywhere. The wraiths chewed on the body loudly and the girl trembled in horror of the beasts she and Malfoy had summoned. She could hear the gnashing of their teeth and the tearing of flesh with alarming clarity but the servant boy's screams had been silenced long ago.

It seemed to be nights later that the demons were finally content and drifted off into the grey sky in a cacophony of screams. The girl on the ground whimpered and uncurled from the fetal position that had always served her well. She glanced at Malfoy whose eyes were wide and mouth agape. The hand that held his wand hung to his side limply and his fingers were nearly uncurled.

Hermione Granger saw an opportunity.

The wooden wand dropped onto the bloody grass and its owner staggered forward to Hermione, so many questions in his eyes. She walked forward to meet him-

And sprinted around him toward the abandoned wand.

She picked it up and felt power surge up her arm. Malfoy swore and ran at her, much faster than he seemed and alarmingly more awake than he had been moments ago.

"_Incarcerous!_" Hermione Granger screamed with vigor and summoned the anger that Bellatrix Lestrange had stamped deep down into her heart, buried underneath layers and layers of fear.

Ropes slithered from all around the courtyard and caught Malfoy as he jumped to tackle the Muggle-born. They wrapped around him and seconds later, he was trapped in a web of spikes. Draco screamed in pain-filled rage and tears fell onto his cheeks as he squirmed and the metal dug deeper into his skin.

Six months ago Hermione Granger would have felt sympathy for the young man; she might have even been compelled to help him. But it was six months _after_ and Hermione Granger felt nothing for the pureblood caught in a Mudblood's web.

The girl panted and held onto the wand with as strong a grip as a tortured youth could. The courtyard was silent except for Malfoy's gasps until a pair of quick loud footsteps approached Hermione. She tensed. She knew those footsteps and their owner, that son of a-

"_Expelliarmus!_" Blaise Zabini yelled. Before Hermione could react he added, "_Immobilus_ you bitch."


	4. Disillusioned

I updated in less than a year! :)

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><p>"Why if it isn't the fiery little mudblood." Bellatrix Lestrange said, smirking at the frail girl before her. Her teeth were long and sharp like the fangs of an animal and her eyes were feral and full of maniacal glee. The broken girl would have once ran into the farthest corner of the office and braced herself for the oncoming pain but Hermione Granger was not like that so she chose to stare at Bellatrix with all her hate projected in one cold stare.<p>

"Do you miss our little sessions together?" Bellatrix leered. "I do! I can remember your screams of agony and your begging for mercy and the blood, oh it was so dark and _muddy_!"

"Lestrange, remember why you are here," a dark, lanky man called Brutus muttered. Bellatrix sniffed delicately then turned to Hermione. All humour was gone from her eyes.

"You have been a very naughty mudblood and therefore you must be punished," Bellatrix said coldly. "The Dark Lord promised you no more torture but he also expected you to honour _your_promise and to behave, which you haven't. My nephew is in the emergency care ward of St. Mungo's and the courtyard is in ruins." A sadistic smile played across Bellatrix's lips as she said, "I think it's time we pay a little visit to that big room. Just you and me."

*

Sharp metal shackles were clamped to her wrists and ankles.

"Do you recognize these?" said a young and skinny Death Eater with sunken eyes who was barely taller than Hermione. "They're muggle shackles. Does that make you feel nostalgic?" He laughed quietly on the long walk to the big room.

Every step on the cold marble floor echoed ominously and the vibrations seemed to rattle Hermione's brain wildly inside her skull. Her breath came out in short spurts and she could already taste the blood that seemed to leak out of every skin pore; feel the white-hot pain when those ropes of fire would descend on her back; smell the stench of corpses which was her perfume.

Hermione Granger knew she was about to become that broken living dead girl _encore_. Maybe she would actually die this time.

The Death Eater was still laughing when he pushed open the gigantic double doors that revealed a dimly-lit room that smelled like blood and death and Hermione could hear all the screams and all the crying that had happened there like spirits rising out of their graves.

"Keep on walking, filth," the Death Eater sneered, pushing Hermione into the room then slamming the doors shut, throwing the room into pitch-black darkness.

Hermione turned to face Bellatrix Lestrange; her tormentor and personal demon. She expected the feeling of searing hot knives on her face or thousands of needles gouging out her eyes and laughter and delighted shrieks that reveled in her pain.

But all the girl heard was a cough then the room was filled with light. Narcissa Malfoy's white-blonde hair seemed to frame her face in a glowing halo and her white robe made her look like an angel. Hermione knew she was safe; she could trust this angel-

Then the light dimmed just a bit and the halo disappeared, she scowled and Hermione realized Narcissa's robe was in fact stained, patched, and a dull grey. The girl felt disappointment squeeze her heart like one of Bellatrix's curses as she remembered:

There are no angels in hell.

"My son nearly died," Narcissa said, her voice cold and sharp like a knife. It felt like a slap in the face. "If I had my way, you would be with Bellatrix right now, screaming and crying but not dying- sadly no one values my opinion because I am just Lucius Malfoy's trophy wife." Mrs. Malfoy glared at Hermione with such loathing that the girl shrunk back a bit. "However the Dark Lord consoled me by bringing you here. Bellatrix being your torturer would have been preferred but I guess this will work too. _Crucio!_"

The girl knew her only ally was gone.

Hell. This was a living hell and she was the living dead.

*

Draco Malfoy surveyed the whimpering girl who was curled up on the floor and in too much pain to notice the new arrival.

"_Sectumsempra!_" Draco watched in horror as his furious mother shot curse after curse at the mudblood then, when she ran out of spells, Summoned muggle torture instruments- no, this was't his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a kind-hearted woman who became attached to things and people too quickly. Narcissa Malfoy was supposed to be the one bit of goodness left in this hellhole.

The woman's eyes were filled with cold fury and pleasure and not even a hint of sympathy lingered behind those grey pupils. Her mouth, when not screaming, was upturned in a small sadistic smile that was permanently on Bellatrix's lips but no, it was never supposed to grace Narcissa's mouth. Draco had never seen this horrible, delighted expression on his mother's face and suddenly he realized that as much as she tried to hide her pain from him, the Dark Lord's reign had probably changed her more than it did him.

"Would you like a go?" this new Narcissa asked expectantly, her eyes bright. Draco was about to say no but she wouldn't understand. There was no room for sympathy and understanding behind those livid grey eyes.

"Ok," Draco said blankly. He aimed at the mudblood who was shrieking and crying and covered in thick, shiny blood. "_Incarcendia!_"

The young Death Eater fought to keep his face blank as the girl was enveloped in a great fiery cage and her sobs seemed to wrack his heart.


End file.
